


White Elephant

by PepperPrints



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-24
Updated: 2012-10-24
Packaged: 2017-11-16 22:57:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/544765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperPrints/pseuds/PepperPrints
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wasn't sure exactly which idiot had witnessed last year's disastrous Christmas festivities and decided that tragedy deserved repeating, but here they were again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Elephant

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Elephant Blanc](https://archiveofourown.org/works/939882) by [A (Majora)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Majora/pseuds/A)



> For the 30_kisses challenge. Prompt: Wada Calcium CD3 -- which is, in fact, the most ridiculous prompt and therefore was used ridiculously. This is an utterly shameless Christmas story (posted in October, no less!) and for that I apologize and entreat no one to take this too seriously.
> 
> The title is an idiom often used in gift exchanges and also for items which are, in simple terms, a lot more trouble than they're worth. ... if you catch my drift.

 At least it wasn't Chris.

 

That had been the main thought that crossed Wesker's mind as he stared at the tiny slip of paper. He wasn't sure exactly which idiot had witnessed last year's disastrous Christmas festivities and decided that tragedy deserved repeating, but here they were again. It had been miserable, would be miserable again, and Wesker was the worst of it.

 

Wesker didn't appreciate the holidays very much. It was likely due to a childhood as an orphan, but that sounded horribly pitying. Wesker simply held little understanding for the appeal, since it was such a social event. Wesker had no family, and his one 'friend' was Birkin, who was lucky to look up from his work long enough know what month it was, let alone recognize the occasion. For this reason, Wesker usually escaped these traditions unscathed, but then there was STARS, and every single one of them seemed infatuated with Christmas.

 

They continued with the Secret Santa, which was the most unbearable part. The idea was to make things easier by assigning only one gift per person – but that was under the misguided impression that Wesker knew how to shop for such things at all. Wesker was terrible at this, but he figured it was fair, since no one seemed to know what to give him either.

 

Barry had the good luck of being paired with him last year, and he had given Wesker sunglasses. That drew out a fine laugh from everyone; Wesker didn't even pretend to be entertained. Likewise, Wesker had drawn Brad's name, and he didn't impress anyone. Since he couldn't purchase a spine for the man, Wesker settled for getting him calcium supplements, because then maybe he could strengthen his bones. He hadn't heard the end of it since.

 

This year, Wesker was stuck with Jill. There was one woman in the STARS Alpha team, and Wesker drew _her_ name from the obnoxious, tinselly hat.

 

At least it wasn't Chris. Chris would have been a serious problem.

 

Wesker tried to put it from his mind, but he was a practical man. He knew the longer he put it off, the longer it would nag at him. He might as well find something, get it over with, and then not think of it again. He was warned several times this year that medicine was not a present, and if he heard it one more time, he would make certain that person needed a hospital, let alone a little calcium.

 

There were more profitable uses for his time off. He could have been working, and instead he was here, bumping arms with the other common idiots who were bumbling around wasting money. The Secret Santa had a strict budget, for the sake of fairness, and Wesker tried to keep that in mind, but if he could find one single thing that was suitable, he didn't care about the damn price at all. Wesker just wanted this done with.

 

Wesker was walking, his breaths visible in the air as he moved from store to store. His exhales drifted up like smoke, and he frowned a little bit at the association. He had found Chris smoking outside in the cold a few days prior, and that had been when the problem started.

 

Wesker pushed the thought aside as he began browsing. He had never really shopped for a woman before. The obvious choices on display seemed far too romantic. It seemed impossible to give a woman something without it translating into some subconscious desire, and that would not do at all.

 

Acting on desires was rather inadvisable; Wesker realized that when he interrupted Chris's smoking break.

 

“Keep giving out compliments and people are going to think you actually give a damn, Captain,” Chris had jokingly forewarned.

 

At least it wasn't Chris.

 

The problem was, he honestly did not give a damn – not enough to recognize anything that Jill might appreciate. Presumably, most women liked jewelry, but Wesker had never seen Jill out of uniform; he had no way of knowing if she did or not. Wesker approached the glass cases, leaning over and frowning slightly. There also the fact that jewelry had the problematic element of romance. Most of the items here were hearts, lockets... lockets.

 

“Hi there,” the overtly cheery clerk greeted, leaning over from the opposite side of the case. “Is there anything I can help you find?”

 

Wesker took a moment, considering, before he spoke. “You might, in fact,” he replied. “Are these all your pendants?”

 

“Not at all!” Exerting that kind of enthusiasm must have been exhausting at the end of the day. Wesker was guided around to the other side of the display, his gaze focused on the glass. “Are you looking for something in particular?”

 

Wesker made an affirmative sound, and his eyes had already found what he wanted. “A lock,” he said, and he gestured out with slender fingers. “That one.”

 

The clerk quickly pulled it out so he could see. It was a simple thing, not studded with stones or garish; just a soft white gold on an elegant chain. The design was simple, but that was what made it ideal. The clerk was babbling some nonsense about it, likely hoping to assure a sale, but it was unnecessary; Wesker was already sold. This was Jill's expertise; it was all he needed.

 

“I'll take it.” It was a very high cut above the decided budget, but Wesker couldn't give a damn. Money was no issue to him, so he was utterly unconcerned. The others didn't have to know – if asked, he'd lie and say it wasn't real gold, as if they could tell the difference.

 

“And is that going to be everything for you today?” the clerk was asking, still all smiles as the necklace was boxed up and gift wrapped. “No one else on your list?”

 

“No one who would appreciate any jewelry,” responded Wesker bluntly, pulling out his wallet. William wouldn't even benefit from a nice watch; he never checked the time.

 

It was always obvious when an employee was paid on commission. “Well, there's a few other options besides that,” the clerk offered, gesturing to the next case down, and Wesker considered just waving away the offer, but something else did catch his eye.

 

The case was full of a few stray items which did not quite fit the rest. There were dog tags, pocket watches, and other odder things, but what got Wesker's attention was the lighter.

 

When he found Chris smoking, he had nearly been out of lighter fluid. His lighter was plastic, and took several stubborn flicks of his thumb before a spark finally connected. When it did, the flame lit up Chris's face. For a moment, illuminated by the spark and the smoke, Chris looked utterly unlike himself, tranquil and alluring, but the expression was lost the moment Chris saw him.

 

“Captain,” he had greeted, plucking the cigarette from his lips and smiling. “What're you doing out here?”

 

“Looking for you,” admitted Wesker, his feet crunching in the snow as he came closer. “You disappeared quickly.”

 

Chris had laughed, taking another drag of his cigarette. “After a day like that, I really needed a smoke – besides, it warms me up,” he said. Never mind that Chris would be warmer if he didn't come outside to smoke in the first place, but Wesker didn't argue.

 

“You did a good job today,” he told him, and he could see the shock on Chris's face. Wesker didn't blame him; he did not go out of his way to do this often, but Chris was a very special case. “You're much more modest in your reports, but your partners say you solved this case yourself. You've done incredibly well – better than I expected.”

 

“Keep giving out compliments and people are going to think you actually give a damn, Captain,” Chris had jokingly forewarned. Wesker felt a faint smile touch his lips.

 

“Perhaps I do.”

 

Chris paused, his eyebrow raised as Wesker suddenly came very close. “Wesker?”

 

STARS was only an experiment, Wesker knew this, but Chris had proven himself as much more than that, hadn't he? He had earned a better fate, and Wesker wanted it that way. Wesker had not given in to a selfish act in so long, having been too dedicated to carefully laid plans, and this was overdue. He had thought it through, decided that Chris was deserving, and that he too deserved this one indulgence.

 

Except, it didn't quite go as he predicted. When he reached for Chris, cupping his face to turn him towards a kiss, Chris had jumped a mile. His eyes went wide and he gasped, his cigarette falling from his grip and fizzling out in the snow.

 

The horror on Chris's face was obvious, and Wesker must have misread something along the way. Chris's admiration for his captain turned out to be simply that: entirely chaste. Wesker left without another word, not bothering to explain himself. It was unnecessary, and he decided to spare them both the embarrassment on lingering on a moment that was so clearly not reciprocated, leaving in a hurry.

 

Rejection didn't suit Wesker very well.

 

Wesker gestured to the lighter, asking to see it, and the clerk happily withdrew it. This was a proper lighter; it had a real weight, and the metal was smooth under the swipe of his thumb. He remembered how Chris's face lit up under the sparks, and he frowned.

 

“This too,” he said, utterly uncertain why he bothered.

 

Wesker paid without saying much else. The clerk blathered at him, trying to be friendly, and it was mostly grating. Wesker merely gave his thanks and left. He didn't bother looking at the bag again until he was stashing the items in his desk at the office, and that was when he realized that the clerk had wrapped both of the items as if they were intended as gifts. He could tell them apart, thankfully, but only one of them was a gift. The other was... Wesker frowned. He actually wasn't sure what it was. Well, it wasn't a gift.

 

The boxes stayed hidden in his desk out of sight and out of mind for the last remaining days until the party came. Wesker honestly did forget about them, for the most part, mostly because he preferred not to think about it.

 

Soon enough, the exchange came. It was always meant to be indirect, as it was 'secret'. Wesker left the necklace on Jill's desk while she was out, and then he was done with it. There: another yearly agony dealt with. It was relatively painless this time around; Wesker was surprised and relieved.

 

That done, Wesker returned to his desk, only to find his own 'Santa' had likewise taken advantage of his absence. The present was waiting on his desk, garishly wrapped and decently sized. He frowned, closing the door behind him, and he picked the box up like it might bite him. He might as well get it over with. Technically, he was supposed to wait, and they all would gather and unwrap their gifts together in one big, embarrassing union. Wesker really would have preferred to be spared such a painful ordeal. He could 'forget', and go ahead and open his own now that he had it.

 

Wesker did just that, and he bundled up the wrapping paper in his fist, tossing it into the waste bin. The box beneath was plain, betraying nothing, and Wesker opened it with little real sense of anticipation. Maybe it would be another pair of sunglasses, or a notebook or something else to imply how little his subordinates thought of him.

 

Instead, much to his surprise, there was a pair of gloves.

 

Wesker paused, slowly withdrawing them from the box. They were quite nice, actually, though obviously within the budget that had been assigned to them. They were leather, lined for the cold, and not utterly unappealing. Wesker tried them on, and it was a perfect fit – a bit snug, but leather softened in time. Wesker was, for once, startled that he had received a gift that wasn't in some way offensive to him.

 

It was only then that Wesker noticed the note. It had been underneath the gloves, small and neatly folded in half. He picked it up, opening it to expose a messy scrawl of handwriting.

 

_'The only problem was your cold hands.'_

 

It took a second read before the implication truly settled in. Wesker was frozen for a moment, rereading the single line over and over. He couldn't be mistaken about this: it was...

 

“Captain, you-- oh.”

 

Chris stood in the doorway, blue eyes staring at Wesker's gloved hands, then at the note in his grip, and his expression quickly turned into a frown.

 

“You weren't supposed to open that yet,” he chided.

 

No, he supposed not, and he was very glad he didn't. Opening this in the public out with the rest of STARS would have been a disaster to say the least. Wesker stared at Chris, disbelieving for a moment, before he acted.

 

Wesker moved very slowly. He stepped around to the side of his desk, sliding the drawer open and retrieving the second package. Chris looked taken aback, glancing up at Wesker skeptically.

 

“You're not my Santa,” he said slowly, which was probably the most ridiculous thing Wesker had ever heard directed at him. “Barry already spilled the beans and his present is a round of drinks.”

 

How inspired. Wesker should have thought of that. “I know I'm not,” replied Wesker patiently. “This isn't part of that.” Which was, Wesker realized, admitting that he had gone out of his way to buy Chris something. That he had made the effort to get Chris a present despite having no obligation in the slightest.

 

This was a poor idea.

 

Chris looked a little wide-eyed as he took the box. He pulled away at the wrapping like a child, dropping it in chunks on the floor of Wesker's office with little care. Wesker frowned at that, but he didn't argue. Arguing would be ill-advised.

 

Chris pulled out the lighter, and Wesker saw his face light up: illuminated by sheer delight rather than any flame. It was something he'd never seen on Chris's face before, and the way it made him feel was a very bad sign.

 

“I can't believe you did this,” Chris admitted, sounding awed at first, and then he was amused. “You're Mister Calcium for Christmas; you're the same guy, and you did _this_.”

 

Wesker didn't know if he should feel insulted or not.

 

Chris set the lighter back in the box, dropping it back on Wesker's desk, and he moved so fast that Wesker nearly stumbled. Throwing his arms around Wesker's shoulders, Chris pressed their mouths together in a warm, open kiss. Immediately enthusiastic, Wesker could feel Chris smiling, giving a moan that vibrated down into his chest. It was an odd sensation, and by the time Wesker recovered enough to reciprocate, Chris was already pulling back.

 

“Gonna miss the party,” he said, taking hold of Wesker's gloved hand. He grinned at that, glancing down as he entwined their fingers. “They fit too... I'd have told you from the start if you didn't run away so fast – hey!”

 

Wesker tightened his hand on Chris's, yanking him back. He pulled until he had Chris back against his desk, and then he shoved, pinning him down on top of it. Paperwork and pens were knocked aside as Chris squirmed, and Wesker paid it little heed.

 

“I don't really need to go to the party,” he pointed out when Chris started to insist again. “I already have my present.

 

“And, as tempting as Barry's drinks may be,” continued Wesker, reaching up to pull away his sunglasses. “I have something better for you.”

 

Chris looked stunned for only a moment, the expression quickly turning into a grin. His hands tugged at Wesker's uniform to pull him closer, clever fingers already working a few buttons free. “I get to unwrap this present too, right?” he taunted.

 

“Mh,” intoned Wesker affirmatively, his voice lowering as he added a stipulation. “Except these.” Wesker raised his hands, showing off the gloves. “These stay on.” Wesker meant to be enticing, but Chris was laughing.

 

“Damn right they stay on,” he replied, “your hands are freezing.”


End file.
